


facing manhattan, and other shining things

by newsbypostcard



Series: Blood From Bony Fingers [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Friendship, M/M, Pining, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9516512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard
Summary: "For what it's worth, you're doing pretty well for someone in a state of panic.""Who's panicking?" he says, dry.She smiles at him; takes the hint, and smokes with him a while in silence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a deleted scene from [wash the blood from your bony fingers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8875549) \-- specifically, from the middle of chapter 3, after Tony takes a look at Bucky's shoulder and before Bucky and Steve take a glimpse at Manhattan. It is not likely to make sense on its own, but the gist is that Bucky's been de-aged and has no memory past 1936, if you would like to try.

  


Natasha finds Barnes smoking on the balcony. 

He looks at her sidelong as she steps out, almost startled, but then gives a fragmented smile, as though relieved it's not Steve. She returns his glance with a smirk and leans against the railing beside him in silence. 

He offers her the pack of cigarettes, well dwindled in supply. She takes one anyway. Then he hands her the lighter, seeming self-satisfied that she'd actually join him. "Think you might be the only other person in the 21st century to smoke these," he says.

"You'd be surprised. It's not as common, though."

"How come?"

"Smoking causes cancer."

Barnes nods, as though he should've known. "So it's true, huh?"

"Afraid so."

He hums and takes a long, decisive drag of his cigarette. "Guess I owe Steve a Coke."

Natasha smiles and stares out with him over the balcony's edge. 

"How're you doing?" she asks, after a time.

He exhales smoke from his nostrils. "I'm peachy."

"I guess that's a stupid question."

He waves a hand. "Just on edge. Nice of you to ask. I'm alright." He gestures to his left side. "Guess my arm's made of metal in the future. That's... thrilling."

"That's come out, huh?"

"Everyone's so goddamned relaxed about it."

"I guess it would be a shock to you."

"You can say that again."

"You're managing it pretty well, under the circumstances."

"Guess I am." He takes another drag. "Hell, who needs two arms, anyway? It's the future. Robots do everything."

"Has that been your experience so far?"

"Robot keeps the house. Robots live in telephones, make the television work. You don't even notice?"

"Guess I never thought of it like that."

"Well, welcome to the future. Arm's a robot, too. Fine. Alright. Guess I'll just deal with it."

His hand shakes only slightly when he takes another drag. Natasha's mouth quirks with sympathy. "For what it's worth, you're doing pretty well for someone in a state of panic."

"Who's panicking?"

She smiles; takes the hint. She smokes with him a while in silence.

"I know I just met you and all," he says eventually, honesty graveling out of him whether he wants it or not, "but I got a real good feeling about you, Natasha. I like you a lot."

She is unused to the bald-faced honesty. "Thank you. I like you too, Barnes."

"See? That's nice. You don't hide things. Everybody else hides things."

He means that Steve hides things. 

"I don't think they mean to be malicious."

"No, of course not." It drags, dripping with sarcasm, but there's a truthfulness to it too. "They do it out of -- Christ, I dunno. _Kindness,_ or something that doesn't jive with the shit I've been reading about. You think a damn one of us is protected?" He gestures out over the city, cigarette between his fingers. "You think any one of these people out here gets to be an exception to the rules?" He shakes his head; flicks the butt of his cigarette over the balcony's edge. "Just speaking for me, I don't care from kindness. I care from -- from the truth of things, you know? I care from understanding what the fuck is going on from one minute to the next. I care from getting through this day and into the next one without winding up another lamb for the slaughter. All this information in those tiny light-up rectangles and half the time all people wind up doing is burying the shit that matters for the sake of some goddamn façade that doesn't mean a thing."

Natasha listens with easy attention; lets it languish when he pauses to breathe. 

"You're a smart kid," she offers after a while, casual as she can.

Barnes just leans against the bannister beside her and reaches, hands shaking, for the cigarettes out of his pocket again. "That so?" he says. "What's it get me?"

"A strong instinct for self-preservation, for one thing."

"Lucky me." He spends ten piteous seconds trying to get the lighter to catch. 

Natasha takes it gently out of his hands. "Here." Barnes' eyes cant up to hers; a flash of blue, profound and shining. The cigarette lights. He inhales; blinks appreciatively, turns away. 

"Thanks."

"I'm going out." She hands the lighter back to him. "I'll pick you up some more."

He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and exhales. "Thanks, but it sounds like I'm going out too. I'll pick some up myself."

"You sure? It's easy enough."

"No thanks. I appreciate it." 

They smoke a while more.

"So I hear you're a Soviet," he says, apropos of nothing.

She cracks a rueful smile. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Awful nice for a Soviet."

"You meet a lot of Soviets?"

He cants an eyebrow to grant the point. "Got me there."

Now it's her turn to smoke nervously. "Besides," she says. "I'm reformed."

"So I hear. Takes a lot of fortitude, get out of a situation like that. Stay fighting." Barnes looks at her sidelong. "Should feel proud of yourself."

Natasha can't tell how much he really knows. "In a way," she says carefully. "In a way, it's kinda the only thing to do, you know?"

"You could've run. Hide."

She frowns her surprise. "And then what?"

"Live."

"In fear, maybe."

He stares out into the distance and doesn't say anything for a while. "Guess I never thought that far ahead."

She sighs heavily; fishes the cigarettes out from his pocket without asking. "This is why I gave these up."

Barnes gives a burst of surprised laughter; hands her the lighter. "Stronger than me."

"You'll quit someday."

"Don't think I could do it if I wasn't forced to, nerves like mine."

She looks at him; lets him ignore her when he doesn't look back.

"Don't take this the wrong way," says Barnes at last. "Because God knows I think you're stunning."

"Uh oh."

"And -- _Jesus,_ you're smart. Guess you know your way around a fight, too. Feel like you could take me out easy I give you half a chance. Can't say I've ever seen that in a dame before."

"Flattery's not gonna get you anywhere, Barnes."

"I'm trying to explain something here. I've been on a lot of dates, with a lot of different dames, Natasha. A _lot_ of dates. I actually -- I really enjoy the company of women. I grew up surrounded by 'em, you know? I like hanging out with dames. Guys don't give 'em enough goddamn credit, shit they fight through. My Ma, she's -- incredible, I really believe that. I see what she's been through, trying to raise us since Pa died, and I don't know how she…" He shakes his head. "I can't imagine being in her place. Holding her poise through all that. I ain't ever seen her cry but the once, when I landed myself in a fight so bad she had to come pick me up from Steve's just so I could get home, state of my face was so bad. And my sisters -- they're just trying to find a place in the world, and they have such a goddamn time of it. The number of fights I've been starting my own damn self just to make sure they get home unheckled, and Steve too…" He exhales his frustration. "The men of this world are a piece of work, you know? Lunatics, whole lot of 'em."

He glances over at her; cuts his gaze away again, seeming to see something in her eye he'd rather not. "Dames don't get a chance, so they never try to give me a run for my money," he says. "It's too risky. Talk to a guy the wrong way and risk getting either left or hit. I like that dames are sweet because it makes 'em easy to talk to and spend time with, but..." He gestures at Natasha with his cigarette. " _You_ would give me a run for my money, I can see that much right off. Think you might be better than me in every way. And I've been looking for something like that in a beautiful woman a long time. A long damn time."

"Barnes…"

"It's not what I want." Barnes doesn't look at her, but she has the sense that he would, had he just a bit more courage. "I've been looking for someone just like you for years is what I'm trying to say, and now I've found you and I can't seem to give a damn. I like you; I enjoy your company and your conversation. I'm relieved you're here right now or I'd be caught in my head. But I went on one hundred and forty-five dates last year, Natasha, just trying to find someone who's everything you seem to be -- and now that I've finally found you, all I can goddamn think about is how much you remind me of my _mom_."

Natasha bursts into surprised laughter.

Barnes' smile is slow and reluctant, but she can see it's genuine, like her joy brings some to him. "Well, you took that better than expected," he mutters.

"I'm sorry."

"God, don't be. If all you do after a speech like that is laugh…"

"It's just…" She waves a hand. "We get along, in the future, Barnes; better than average. For me, at least, and I think for you too. But... it's never been romantic with us." She shrugs. "You've said I remind you of your sister before, but I guess you don't really know her yet."

Bucky looks at her dead-on, frowning. "Which one... Sally?"

"Your middle sister."

"Sally, yeah. She's just a kid, just thirteen. I guess I'd… know her better, later on."

Then his face falls, like he knows better. 

She gives him a flickering smile. "She was still alive until a couple years ago."

"No kidding?" He sounds like he's not sure he believes her. "I ever talk to her?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Guess it'd be hard to explain."

He nods and turns to stare back out over the city, looking unhappily at the stub of his cigarette. "Wonder what happened to them," he says quietly. "After I went to war."

"I can tell you if you really want to know, Barnes. But I think you might be better off just living it."

Barnes nods; sighs. "That's what Steve says, too."

"He might be right."

"See, I like that. I like that you give me a choice."

It's a strange thing for him to say. "You always have a choice here, Barnes. Other people just have a different way of expressing it."

"Steve seems pretty committed to withholding information from me until he decides it's relevant. Don't think my choice matters that much to him."

"Really? I don't think he wants to keep anything from you."

"Then he's sure doing a solid acting job on it." 

"There's a lot to adjust to, that's all. He doesn't want to dump all at once. If you sat Steve down and asked him what it is you really want to know, I think he'd tell you."

Barnes chews on his cheek. "Maybe there's some things I can't ask… him."

"How come?"

He doesn't answer; only watches the cigarette burn between his fingers.

"I think I'm in love with him," he says -- barely a mumble, yet indisputable.

She's surprised to hear it, but she smiles. "What gave it away? Almost making out on that table?"

Barnes seems to curl in on himself. "Actually I'm pretty sure I've known it for years." She watches as he hunches over, hands gripping the railing as he bends in half, bowing his head.

"Hey," she says, concerned by his contortions of distress. "You're okay."

"Just waiting for death, don't mind me."

"You're fine here, Barnes, I promise you. Half the Avengers are in same-sex relationships, or have been."

He raises his head at this, squinting against the sun. "I guess…" A sticky swallow. "Stark is?"

"Stark is, with Rhodes. A few people you don't know: Clint -- he's bisexual, like Steve; Maria; Thor, probably. Sam, too."

Bucky cocks an eyebrow. "Sam Wilson?"

"Yeah."

"Really."

She watches him a minute. "You ready to stand up yet?"

"Getting there."

"Okay." Natasha smokes and waits with him. When he finally does straighten up he runs his fingers through his hair and puffs on his cigarette, as though compelled to appear as youthful and relaxed as possible. 

"So is Steve in love with me?" he asks, tone still half-strangled as he leans an elbow at the railing.

She smiles again. Natasha likes this Barnes a lot. "He hasn't told you?"

"He said--" But he cuts off, like he can't repeat it.

Natasha takes pity on him. "He's in love with you, all right."

Barnes shakes his head. "But…" He makes a gesture above his head with his hand and mouths _Big_. "Him? Like, all of him?"

She blinks at him, incredulous. "I have no idea how the two of you function," she tells him. "The other one could be split down the middle and you'd find a way to think he's hot."

"He is hot! You can't tell me you don't think he's hot."

"He's big. He's hot. I'm with you."

Barnes narrows his eyes and straightens, sudden. "How with me are you, exactly?" 

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Oh, relax, you asked me."

"I did. Regretting it now."

"What's it matter if I feel that way? The world could end and he still wouldn't leave you."

"He likes girls too?" It's both a question and a statement.

"Mostly he likes you."

"He likes girls and you like him, but he's not… with you."

Natasha shakes her head. "I've just told you twice and I'll tell you again: he won't leave you for the world, Barnes."

"But--"

"Nope."

He seems not to know what to do with her abrupt certainty. "Why would--"

"He loves _you_."

"But--"

"Nope."

Barnes stares at her. Natasha looks over to stare at him back, lips pursed. "You getting it yet?"

He sighs, slow; then looks away. "Guess so."

She's long since finished her cigarette, but she waits for him to smoke his. "Thanks," he says eventually, flicking the butt off the balcony again.

Natasha nods. "No problem."

"You often help me?"

"You don't often ask, but every once in a while. Minus the cigarettes."

"That's a shame."

"Not really. We drink instead."

Barnes laughs -- as rare in his young form, it seems, as in the present. "Alright. I'll accept it."

They stand a while and take in the city heat.

"You're alright, Barnes," she tells him. "You're gonna be alright."

He nods. "Think I'll have to wait and see on that, but I appreciate your input." He runs his hands over his face. "Guess I have to face Manhattan."

"You'll do great. Remember: you're one of them."

"One of th--" His eyes widen. "Are there -- _robots_?"

She grins at him wickedly. He rolls his eyes and groans, then spins inside.

"Definitely like Sally," he mutters; then the doors close behind him, leaving her alone in the midday sun.

  



End file.
